


Home Alone

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-01-13
Updated: 2001-01-13
Packaged: 2018-11-10 17:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11131776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Ben is almost seven years old, but his grandparents won't allow him to track criminals beyond his boundaries.





	Home Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Home Alone

## Home Alone

by Mary

* * *

Disclaimer: No one's home at dueSouth, so I'm playing with their stuff. 

Humor/Drama; Rated G 

**HOME ALONE**

By Mary 

I ran to the house after hearing my grandmother call me for about the fifth time. I had been having fun playing in the woods outside our house and was not happy to be interrupted, but I finally figured I might as well answer her call or she'd send Grandpa to fetch me. "What, Grandma?" I said, as I came to a halt before her at the door. 

"I guess I'd better give those ears of yours a good cleaning later on, Mister. They must be stuffed full of wax!" 

"No, they aren't," I countered, horrified at the thought of my grandmother performing such a surgery on me. 

"I've been calling you for fifteen minutes. If you didn't hear me, then it's obvious that either your ears are dirty or you wandered out of earshot. And I told you to stay near the house this morning, didn't I?" 

"I did, Grandma. Maybe you didn't yell loud enough," I suggested as a third option. 

"Yes," she agreed with a gently stern scowl, "perhaps I didn't." She tugged my ear quickly, then placed her hand on my back and started to push me toward the house. "Go wash your hands and brush your hair. We need to go into town." 

"Oh, Grandma, I don't wanna go. Do I hafta?" 

"Yes, you do, honey." 

"How come?" 

"Because I have errands to run and your grandpa isn't home, so you have to come with me." 

"I could stay here by myself." 

"No, you can't. I'm not about to leave a six-year-old at home alone." 

"I'm almost seven." 

"This isn't up for debate, Ben. Do as I say, please." 

"But I wanna stay here and play," I whined, resisting her shoves. 

"You can play later." 

"But the criminals will all get away." 

"What criminals?" 

"The ones I'm trackin' in the woods." 

"Ah, I see. So that's why you didn't hear me calling. You were in the woods." 

Momentary paralysis gripped me, but thankfully my mind still worked fast, providing me with what I thought was a suitable reply. "Just a little bit in the woods. You didn't say I couldn't." 

"Hmm." She perused me thoughtfully. "I guess I must speak by the card or equivocation will undo me." 

"Huh?" 

"Next time I'll make sure we understand each other before you leave the house." 

"Oh." My face blushed guilt red as she continued to stare at me. "I can't let the criminals get away, Grandma, or I won't get to go to the 'cademy," I explained, returning her stare. 

"I don't think you have to worry about the Academy yet, honey." 

"A Mountie always gets his man, Dad says." 

"So does a Grandma," she said determinedly, starting to lose her patience. "Now, scoot!" she commanded with a hefty slap to my behind. "We're leaving in five minutes." 

"Aw, shucks!" I protested with a pout, as I crossed my arms defiantly in front of me and still did not go into the house. 

"Watch your mouth, young man!" 

"I just said 'shucks', Grandma. I didn't say a bad word." 

"You're complaining and arguing with my orders. Now, if you don't go inside this minute and do as you were told, you'll be sent straight to your room for the rest of the day as soon as we get home from town. All right?" 

"Please don't make me do that, Grandma," I implored in a whisper. 

"Behave and I won't have to." 

"Okay, Grandma." I could see that I had no choice but to agree. 

She smiled and pushed the hair off my face. "Run along, honey. Those five minutes are almost up." 

I nodded then turned to go into the house. But I had one more point to make, so I stopped and faced Grandma again. "Grandma?" 

"What, honey?" 

"I'm not complainin', but if you ever did let me stay home by myself, I'd be good and wouldn't get hurt or break anything or nothing." 

"Okay, Ben. I'll keep that in mind." 

"You will?" 

"Scoot!" she ordered with an arm determinedly pointing the way. 

* * *

A couple hours later, my grandmother and I were walking home, each laden with sacks of supplies we had picked up in town. Just as we were about to turn onto the dirt road that led to our cabin, a truck pulled out onto the village road and sped off away from town. I recognized it immediately as my father's truck. 

"That's Dad!" I exclaimed, as I started to run down the street after the truck, dropping the sack as I did so. 

"Benton Fraser!" Grandma called after me. "You come back here immediately!" 

I stopped running at her order, but I couldn't bring myself to return to her. I stood and watched the truck disappear into the distance. "But that was Dad, Grandma." 

"Yes, honey, it may have been. Now, would you come back over here, please, and pick up the bag you dropped and help me get this stuff home." 

"But..." 

"Now, please, Ben." 

I heaved a big sigh and pouted as I trudged back over to my grandmother. "Where's Dad goin'," I asked with a confused squint of my eyes, figuring she probably had no more idea than I what my father was doing in the area to begin with. I hadn't seen nor heard from him for months and hadn't expected a visit. 

"Pick up the bag, honey. Let's go. It's getting late and I have things to do at home." 

"But you didn't answer my question." 

"I'll answer your question when we get back to the house." 

"You promise?" 

"Benton! Don't make me tell you again!" 

"Okay, Grandma, okay." I picked up the bag and flung it over my shoulder, then practically ran the rest of the way home so that I could make my grandmother follow through on her promise. By the time Grandma entered the house, I had already deposited my sack on the kitchen table and was at the door to meet her. "Come on, Grandma," I implored, as I took hold of her coat and pulled her into the room. "Hurry up." 

"All right, Ben. That'll do. I can manage without you dragging me across the room." 

"But you promised to answer my question." 

"And so I will, honey, in a minute. You're just going to have to be patient." 

I let go of Grandma and she made her way to the table and dropped her sacks beside the one I had carried. I followed her and stood at her side as she began to empty the sacks and store the supplies in the kitchen and pantry cupboards. I was beginning to think she had forgotten me when, after removing the empty bags from the table and folding them into her arms, she suddenly spoke with surprise. 

"Where on earth did this come from?" she asked, as she lifted a fishing rod from the table and studied it closely. 

Just at that moment, Grandpa spoke from the doorway where he had appeared without our noticing him. "That's for the boy." 

"For me, Grandpa?" 

"From your father. He was here but he, uh, couldn't wait any longer. Had to get back to work. But he left that for you. Said he'd catch you next time." 

"He's gone?" 

"'Fraid so, Buddy. He said to tell you he's sorry he couldn't stay, but..." 

I didn't want to hear any 'buts.' I was extremely disappointed and angry and exploded in a temper tantrum. "Aw, darn! It's all your fault, Grandma! If you didn't make me go with you, I woulda got to see Dad. Now he's gone and it's all your fault!" 

Grandma took me firmly by the arm and stood me before her as she crouched to my level. She spoke sternly, but calmly, as she attempted to bring me under control. "That's enough, Ben. I understand your disappointment, and I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do to change what happened." 

"You shoulda let me stay home like I told you," I scolded her boldly. 

Grandma took my ear between her thumb and forefinger and began to rub it as she looked at me below raised eyebrows. "I want you to settle down right now. Do you understand?" 

"I don't wanna settle down!" I sassed back loudly and struggled to pull myself from her clutches. 

"I beg your pardon, young man?" She gripped my arm tighter and held my face so that I had to look at her. 

"You're a mean grandma. You don't let me do anything I wanna. It's not fair." I had started to cry and, as my anger grew, I let out a stream-of-consciousness grievance which I didn't really mean, but which I couldn't stop. I did avoid the use of forbidden language, but my attitude and tone of voice were intended to hurt my grandmother's feelings. Finally, I stopped talking and just stared at her with resolute defiance. 

Grandma let go of my arm and stood up. "Go to your room," she ordered me with her arm extended rigidly to point the way. 

I dropped my head and spoke to the floor. "No, I don't wanna." 

"I didn't ask whether you want to or not!" she raised her voice slightly. "Go to your room and stay there until I tell you otherwise." 

My resolve was becoming shaky. I knew Grandma would win out in the end, but I wasn't ready to give in so easily, so I refused to move. 

"Obey your grandmother, Son," Grandpa commanded. He didn't have to say 'or else.' I understood the unspoken implication. 

Without looking at either of them, I turned and ran from the room and, as I fell onto my bed, a full-blown sob overcame me. It was a sob of anger, mostly. Anger at my grandmother for insisting that I accompany her into town and anger at my dad for not sparing the few extra minutes until my return home. 

Within minutes, I felt someone sit down on the bed beside me where I lay with my face buried against the pillow. I tried to hide the fact that I'd been crying, but I couldn't hold back the spontaneous gasps that follow the abrupt stopping of a good cry. A hand began to rub my backside and then I heard Grandpa speak. 

"You okay, Buddy?" he asked. 

I shrugged my shoulders, remaining face down on the bed until Grandpa patted my behind lightly. 

"Sit up, eh. Let's have a little man-to-man talk." 

"Can't we have it later, Grandpa?" 

"No, we'll have it now." 

I hesitated momentarily, but Grandpa remained patient until I finally sat up on the bed and crossed my legs. I feared I was in for a stern lecture at the very least, so I avoided his eye, staring instead at my feet as I fidgeted with the laces of my shoes. 

"You got a little carried away out there, don't you think?" he began. 

I shrugged again and wiped the few remaining remnants of tears from my face. 

"I'd say you did, and so would your grandmother." 

"Yes, Sir," I mumbled as I continued my fidgeting. 

"Well...?" He paused as if waiting for me to respond, but, when I didn't, he prompted me, "...what else have you got to say?" 

"I'm sorry," I whispered contritely, still staring at my feet. Suddenly, I saw my grandfather's hand cover mine and I finally looked him in the eye and was surprised to see gentle concern rather than anger on his face. "I'm sorry, Grandpa," I repeated. 

"Okay, Buddy. You'd better save one of those 'sorrys' for your grandma, though, eh?" he winked. 

"Okay. Are I in big trouble?" 

"Oh, probably not all that big. But I guess that's up to you and Grandma." 

"Me, Grandpa?" 

He leaned in and whispered to me confidentially, "If I were you, I'd go to Grandma straight away and apologize for my rudeness and disobedience." 

"Could ya tell her for me?" 

"No, it doesn't work that way. It's gotta come from you." 

"I know, but I hafta stay here 'til she says I can come out," I explained my dilemma. 

"Ah, I see," he smiled and nodded in understanding. "Well, tell you what, Ben. You go to Grandma and tell her I paroled you." 

"Tell her you did what?" 

"I gave you permission to leave your room so you could tell her you're sorry." 

"Oh. What's it called again?" 

"It's called being on parole. It means you can leave your room, but you have to do what I told you to do, and if you mess up again while you're on parole, you'll be in worse trouble than you were to begin with." 

"I won't mess up, Grandpa. I promise." 

"All right, then. Go on." 

* * *

I found Grandma on her knees in the pantry gathering some empty mason jars from the lower shelves. I stood quietly in the doorway and watched for a moment while I tried to formulate in my head what I was going to say to her. However, before I had a chance to speak, she spotted me. She didn't say anything right away; she just gave me a very long glance, which intensified my unease. 

"Hi, Grandma," I offered softly, stalling for time. 

"Hello. What are you doing here? I sent you to your room." 

"Grandpa said I could be on parole." 

"Oh? What else did he say?" 

"Um, that if he was me he'd 'pologize real fast 'cause I was rude and dis'bedient." 

"Yes, you were," she agreed as she rose to her feet with an armful of jars. "Would you grab a couple more of those jars and bring them out to the kitchen for me, please." 

I nodded and hurried to comply with her request, following her to the sink in the kitchen where she was placing the jars to soak. "Here, Grandma," I said, offering her the dusty jars. 

"Thank you, honey." 

"What're you makin'?" 

"Pickled eggs." 

"Yuck!" 

"You haven't tasted them yet." 

"I hate 'em. They always taste yucky." 

"Hmm." 

"Do I hafta eat any of 'em, Grandma?" 

"Oh, I don't know. We'll see." 

"That means I hafta," I moaned with a scowl. 

"It means exactly what I said. We'll see." 

I mouthed a silent "Yuck!" then stood close to my grandmother and watched with interest as she scrubbed the jars. Or at least I tried to appear interested, hoping that perhaps she would excuse my delay in saying what I had come to say. I realized it was my turn to speak, and I knew perfectly well what needed to be said, yet I remained inexplicably silent, feeling a need for her to speak first. 

"Ben?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I don't believe you have followed Grandpa's advice yet, have you?" 

"Oh yeah. I guess I forgot to when we started makin' the pickled eggs." 

"Yes, I suppose that can happen." 

I looked at my grandma as she kept her attention focused on her task and a smile came to my face. She didn't look at me, but it was plain to see that I had no cause to fear her. I knew I had her forgiveness before I even sought it. "I'm sorry, Grandma. I'm sorry I was bad before and yelled and stuff." 

"Are you?" 

"Uh huh. I are." 

"I am," she corrected my grammar. 

"I am, Grandma." 

"You know, I had no idea your father was going to show up, honey, or we would have waited for him before going into town." 

"Uh huh." I leaned my head against Grandma's hips, then snuck my arm around her and snugly embraced her legs. 

"How'd you like to do me a favor, sweetheart?" 

"What favor?" 

"Well, I'm going to be busy pickling all afternoon, so if you would take your new fishing pole down to the river and catch us some dinner, it'd be a big help." 

"If Dad was still here, he coulda come with me," I lamented. 

Grandma was silent for a few seconds before she answered, "I bet Grandpa would go with you." 

"Yeah." But it wasn't company I was after. I didn't mind going off on my own. In fact, I'd learned to enjoy the time I spent with myself. 

"Your father's going to want to hear all about the big fish you catch." 

"Uh huh," I answered sadly. I didn't hold much hope that he'd be home again very soon. 

"I'll help you write him a letter if you like and you can tell him anything you want. You can even draw a picture of your fish so he can see for himself." 

This idea brightened my spirits considerably. "When can we do it?" 

"How about tonight, after dinner?" 

"Okay. Thanks, Grandma." I hung my head in shame for my earlier contrary remarks, then added, "You're a real nice grandma," to which she responded by planting a kiss on the top of my head. 

* * *

A noise outside my bedroom window woke me from a sound sleep. I jumped out of bed and ran to the window in time to see two figures disappearing into the woods. I was pretty sure it was the same two figures I had been spying on in the woods for the past few days, so I quickly threw on some clothes and my Stetson and made my way out of the house to continue my game of Mountie role-playing, grabbing my fishing pole on the way. It never occurred to me to wonder what time it was, even though my grandparents were both still in bed. There were very few hours of darkness at that time of year, and all I noticed was that it was daylight. And, as far as I was concerned, daylight was playtime. 

I entered the woods at the spot where the two men had been and found several footprints, which I followed until they suddenly disappeared at the edge of the river. They musta crossed to the other side, I realized with profound disappointment. My game would have to be put on hold, as the near side of the river was as far as I was allowed to go on my own. "Aw, shucks!" I cursed aloud, then resigned myself to a morning of fishing. I figured the day wouldn't be a total loss if I could catch some fish, and maybe my criminals would eventually cross back to my side of the river and I could resume my hunt. 

Within the hour, the beginnings of hunger started to gnaw at me. In my hurry to catch up to the suspicious characters in the woods, I had neglected to eat breakfast or to grab a snack to eat on the trail. I was just about to pull in my line, when a sound from behind startled me. I turned quickly and saw my grandmother treading very purposefully toward me, clad in her bathrobe and boots. Although I wasn't sure what I had done wrong, it was clear from her body language that she was irritated, and a surge of alarm ran through my body. I held my position, however, waiting to see what she had to say before I made a move. 

"What is the meaning of this, young man?" she asked as she came to a standstill before me and crossed her arms in front of her. 

"Of what, Grandma?" 

"Don't be obtuse, Benton! The middle of the night is no time for you to be leaving the house alone." 

"It's not the middle of the night," I argued, realizing it must be, but unwilling to admit it. 

Grandma sighed, then spoke with more patience. "Yes, it is the middle of the night, honey." 

"It is?" 

"Didn't you check the clock before you came out here?" 

I stared at Grandma and shook my head slowly, and when she frowned disapprovingly, I added, as an explanation, "I guess I forgot to." 

"What am I going to do with you?" she exclaimed with wonder, eyeing me below her furrowed brow. I gulped, unable or unwilling to answer her rhetorical question. "Come on, honey. Let's go home." 

I gathered my fishing pole in one hand, then stood up and took Grandma's proffered hand with the other. "It was light out, Grandma. I thought it was morning." 

"I see." She started to lead me back toward the house. 

"Are ya mad at me?" 

"No, I'm not mad." She stopped walking and leaned down to me to make herself perfectly clear. "But I will be if you ever do this again." 

"Okay. I won't, then." 

"Good." 

We resumed our walk, and after a few seconds of silence, I told her, "I bet I coulda got the criminals, Grandma, 'cept they went across the river and I'm not allowed." 

"They crossed the river, eh?" 

"Uh huh. I could tell 'cause there weren't any more footprints, so they musta crossed it." 

"Well, that sounds reasonable, honey." 

"I bet there were more footprints on the other side," I hinted none too subtly. 

"Perhaps there were." 

"And I coulda followed 'em and found the criminals." 

"Some day, Ben. Some day." 

"When, Grandma?" 

"I'll let you know. The middle of the night also isn't the time to be re-negotiating your boundaries." 

"It sure doesn't look like the middle of the night." 

"Yes, well, you'll discover, as you go through life, that appearances can often be deceiving." 

"You mean like a lie?" 

"Not exactly. Sometimes your first impression doesn't tell you everything. Like when you woke up and saw that it was light so you assumed it was morning. But if you'd checked the clock, you would have discovered it wasn't morning yet. Sometimes you have to look deeper for the truth." We had reached the house and Grandma turned to me as we stood outside the door. "You see what I mean?" 

"Yeah, I think so. But I still don't know when I'll get to be able to cross the river by myself," I grinned devilishly. 

"Get back to bed, smarty-pants..." Grandma tried to order firmly, in spite of the smirk she couldn't keep from her face, "...before I give you the paddling that fresh mouth deserves!" 

I chuckled with a blush as she hugged and kissed me and demonstrated her threat with an innocuous swat to my behind. "I'm hungry, Grandma." 

"Have a pickled egg." 

"Yuck!" 

"Good night, Ben." 

"G'night, Grandma." I ran into the house, depositing my fishing pole in the mud room, then bumped smack-dab into Grandpa as I sprinted through the kitchen. 

"Whoa, there, little Buddy! What the blazes is going on here?" 

"I'll fill you in, George," Grandma said as she put her arm around Grandpa and started to lead him back to the bedroom. "As for you, young man, you'd better be asleep by the time I finish telling Grandpa about your adventure!" 

* * *

It was late the next evening when I heard Grandma and Grandpa come into my bedroom. I had been sleeping, but an unexpected visitor to the house had engaged my grandparents in a conversation of some urgency and the raised voices had woken me. They whispered as they approached my bed, so I pretended to be asleep. 

"Perhaps we should take him with us, George. I don't feel right about leaving him here alone." 

"Now, Martha. He'll be perfectly safe. The library's just down the hill. We'll be back in no time. He's sound asleep. Won't even know we're gone." 

"Why don't you go. I'll stay here with Ben." 

"It'll be a lot quicker if we both go. Besides, I'm not familiar with the new inventory. I'll check the cashbox and survey the damage while you make sure none of the stock is missing." 

"Can't that wait till morning?" 

"You heard the Constable. They need a preliminary report right away." 

"What is this world coming to?" Grandma lamented. "Breaking into a library. Why on Earth would someone want to do such a thing?" 

"Perhaps they couldn't sleep and needed a good book to read," Grandpa joked. 

"Oh, George! This is serious!" Grandma scolded him. 

"Hush, hush, dear. You'll wake the boy." 

* * *

As soon as my grandparents left the house, I hopped out of bed and went into the outer room, where a dim light had been left burning. This was the first time I'd ever been left alone at the house, and I certainly wasn't going to sleep through it. I pulled aside a corner of the window curtain and watched Grandma and Grandpa make their way down the hill to the library. When they were out of sight, I stepped away from the window and grinned as I wracked my brain to come up with the best use of my golden opportunity. 

The first thing I did was to go to the kitchen and fetch myself one of Grandma's home- made oatmeal raisin cookies and a glass of milk. I'd never realized how crumbly a cookie was, as I had always had to sit at the table while I ate it and Grandma always cleaned up the mess before I had a chance to notice it. But, as I walked back to the living room, munching on the milk- drenched cookie, almost as much cookie ended up on the freshly-mopped floor as in my mouth, so I made a mental note to sweep the crumbs before heading back to bed. 

I washed down the rest of the cookie with a big gulp of milk then set down the half-empty glass after I spotted the gun cabinet against the far wall. Alongside Grandpa's hunting rifle was Dad's, and I suddenly needed to take that rifle into my arms, to touch something that belonged to Dad to compensate for the fact that he wasn't around to touch. Yes, the cabinet was locked, but I knew where the key was hidden. The fact that I was forbidden to touch the guns seemed trivial at the time. I mean, what's the point of being home alone if you're going to follow all the rules? 

The gun felt bigger and heavier than I'd remembered, but I reckoned that was just an illusion caused by my anxiety at handling it against my grandparents' orders. I relaxed somewhat as I imagined Dad there beside me, showing me the various parts of the weapon and their functions. I swore I could smell him: the musky, comforting smell of leather, wool, and guns that I could never get enough of. 

Suddenly I heard the latch on the front door being wriggled and assumed it was my grandparents returning home. So I hurriedly placed the rifle back into the cabinet and closed the door, figuring I would lock it later, as there was no time at the moment. I ran into my bedroom and jumped into bed, praying no one would notice the half-empty glass of milk and the cookie crumbs on the floor. 

My prayers were interrupted abruptly by the sound of glass breaking, which seemed to come from the outer room. At first, I thought Grandma or Grandpa had broken something, but when I didn't hear any voices after the sound of breaking glass, I questioned whether my grandparents were at home. I held my breath and listened for a few seconds, and when I still heard no voices, I tiptoed to my bedroom door and opened it very slowly until I was able to peer into the outer room. 

In the midsummer light, I could see the form of a man leaning out of the front window. It became clear that he was not my grandfather as I watched him pull another man into the house through the broken window. Recognition dawned on me when I saw them together. They were the two shady characters I'd been spying on in the woods for the past few days. My criminals had come to me. 

The two men had a quick look around the room, then, at the instruction of one of them, the other checked out the kitchen then rejoined his partner with a nod that all was, apparently, well. They made their way to the gun cabinet and were pleasantly surprised when the door opened right up for them. Obviously they had come with the intention of stealing the guns. 

Grandma had thought my tales of the criminals in the woods were fiction. And, truth be told, I had figured there was more imagination than reality at play. But this was no longer a game. These strangers had invaded the safety of our home and were threatening to help themselves to our possessions. I was scared, but I couldn't let them get away with such effrontery. 

My first impulse was to get out of the house and run to the library to fetch my grandparents. But then I realized the criminals might get away before we got back to the house. I would have to find a way to detain them until help arrived. How, though? Even if they didn't have guns when they came into the house, they did now. I was just one little kid against two grown men with weapons, but I'd be damned if I was gonna let them take my dad's rifle. 

I spotted my new fishing pole standing in the corner of my room and remembered the time I was fishing with Dad and he demonstrated the strength of the fishing line by wrapping it around me several times and then challenging me to break free of it. In my increasing frenzy for escape, I had only managed to get myself even more hopelessly entangled in the line. When all was said and done, Dad may have regretted that lesson, as there was nothing left of his fishing line by the time he'd cut me free of it. He sure enjoyed my predicament, though. That was plain to see by the stupid grin on his face. 

Fishing rod firmly in hand and Stetson atop my head, I moved stealthily into the main room then ducked behind the couch, watching my prey as I attempted to solidify my plan with a detailed course of action. I couldn't just run up to them where they stood. They would've just grabbed me, and that would have been that. But, if I could somehow lure them to the sofa, I would have room to run quick circles around them before they had a chance to figure out what was happening. 

I stuck the fishing hook into the fabric of the underside of the couch, then lowered myself so that I could not see the criminals and they could not see me. I peeked over the couch and saw the men stuffing the rifles into a canvas sack. As they turned to face the center of the room, I quickly fell back out of sight. 

"Bullets," one of the men muttered to the other. 

As I listened, they searched the cabin for the ammunition. Eventually, one of them called out from the study, "I got it," and his partner went to join him. I heard them come back into the room and I became desperate for a plan to capture them before they got away. Glancing up, I noticed the glass of milk I had placed on the table and received the inspiration I needed. I grabbed the slipper from my foot and tossed it at the glass, sending it crashing to the middle of the floor. 

The thieves jumped at the noise and turned to see the broken glass. Without hesitation, I took off with my fishing pole in the opposite direction, running around behind them, letting out the fishing line as I went. Before they knew what was happening, I had already encircled them once and was taking in the slack of the line as I made a second, tighter circuit. Because of the dim light, all the men could see was a small figure running circles around them. They were unaware of the fishing line until it closed around them. They began to struggle as the line coerced them down onto the couch, but by then they were my prisoners. 

"What in tarnation?" one of them squealed as I stopped running and pulled in the line with all my might so that there wasn't the slightest bit of slack. 

I smiled proudly as I stood back and surveyed my handiwork. The thieves were tied back- to-back, against the couch, and were effectively immobile. "Ha! I gotcha!" I boasted triumphantly. 

"It's a kid! It's a friggin' little kid!" the man yelled. 

"That'll teach ya to steal my daddy's and grandpa's guns!" I admonished them with less- than-perfect grammar. 

"I'll be teaching you a good lesson, you little brat, as soon as I get out of this...this...what the heck is this?" 

"I think it's fishing line," the other thief answered. 

"Uh huh, it is," I confirmed. "And it's stronger than a man or a fish. My dad says so. So you won't be able to get out of it no matter how hard you try." 

"You just watch me, kid," he replied and continued his efforts to break the line. 

Maintaining a firm grip on the fishing pole, I took a seat in the chair across from the couch and giggled as I watched the thief's vain struggle. 

"You're gonna be crying after I get my hands on you, brat!" 

"I'm not scared of you." 

"You will be." 

"Nuh-uh. Mounties aren't scared of nothin'." 

"If you're a Mountie, I'm the Prime Minister." 

"Well, I'm not one yet, but I'm gonna be. I get to be a Cadet now. That's why they gave me the hat." 

"Look, kid, I'm not playing games here." 

"I know." 

"So you better get us out of this fishing line." 

"No, I can't. You're criminals so you hafta go to jail. As soon as my grandma and grandpa get home." 

"All right, that's it, kid. As soon as I get out of this, you're dead." 

"I told you you can't get out of it." 

"Shut up! No bratty kid is gonna tell me what I can or can't do!" 

I remained silent as the thief resumed his vain struggle to break free. "Well, you could give me a hand here!" he finally screamed at his partner, who had made no move to break the line. 

"The kid's right," the second thief said. 

"What do you mean, he's right?" 

"You're not gonna break the line. Haven't you ever gone fishing? This stuff's as strong as hell. We're stuck, man." 

"See, I told ya," I said haughtily. I must admit, I was rather full of myself at that moment, and I can't really blame the guy for wanting to kill me. 

The thief's anger and frustration were building to the point where it looked like he would explode when in walked my grandparents and a Constable. Nobody said anything for the first few seconds until I jumped to my feet excitedly. "Grandma! Grandpa! Look! I got 'em! I got the criminals!" 

My grandfather noticed the sack on the floor and picked it up to discover the guns and boxes of bullets stuffed inside it. "What's going on here?" he asked. "Who are our guests, son?" he added as he called the Constable with a wave of his hand and they moved closer to get a good look at the two bound men. 

"They're the criminals, Grandpa. The ones I've been tracking in the woods. They came to steal your guns, so I caught 'em." 

Grandma took the fishing pole from me and handed it to Grandpa. "Are you all right, honey?" she asked, holding me close and looking me over while Grandpa and the Constable saw to the intruders. 

"Uh huh, I'm okay. I caught 'em, Grandma. I finally caught 'em." 

"Yes, honey, you sure did. I'm sorry you were left here all alone. It won't happen again." 

"But, Grandma, I bet I wouldn'ta got to catch 'em if I wasn't here by myself." 

"Exactly, sweetheart. You're too young for this line of work." 

"But, gosh, I catched 'em all by myself, so I showed you I'm not too little." 

"You weren't scared?" 

"Heck, no! Mounties aren't scared of nothin'!" 

Grandma lifted the Stetson from my head and brushed my hair away from my face with her fingers. "You know, I'd wager that Mounties get scared sometimes, just as do little boys. They just don't talk about it." 

"Not Dad. He never gets scared." 

Grandma smiled and tugged my ear affectionately. "Give me a kiss and run off to bed." 

"But I'm too 'xcited to sleep yet. Can't I stay up a little longer?" 

"Er, if you don't mind, Ma'am," the Constable interjected after he and Grandpa returned from seeing the thieves into the police car, "...I'd like to have a talk with the boy. It won't take long. I just have a few questions." 

"Oh, yes, certainly, Constable. Why don't we sit down." Grandma offered the Constable a seat and then sat in the chair opposite him, pulling me to stand in front of her. "Now, pay attention, Ben, and answer the Constable truthfully." 

"Okay," I replied eagerly. I mean, wow! I was going to discuss the apprehension of two dangerous criminals with a real live Mountie who wasn't even my dad! "Can I have my hat back, Grandma?" I wanted to look as 'official' as possible. 

"Later, honey. I think the Constable would like to be able to see your face while he's talking to you." 

"Thank you, Ma'am," the Constable nodded to my grandma and then leaned forward to address me. "Well, now, son, what's your name?" he asked, pen and paper at the ready. 

"Benton Fraser, Sir." 

He scribbled my name on his pad and then looked at me with a smile and a hand extended in greeting. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Fraser." 

I beamed as I shook his hand and said, "What's your name, Mister?" 

"Oh, my, I neglected to introduce myself, didn't I? Please forgive my momentary lapse, Mr. Fraser. I am Constable Frederick Peters, RCMP. But you may call me Constable Pete. That's what all my friends call me." 

"Okay, Constable Pete. You can call me Ben. Everybody does -- unless they're mad at me and then they call me Benton or Benton Fraser if they're real mad." 

Constable Pete chuckled and winked at me. "Understood, Ben. I tell ya what. I won't call you Benton Fraser if you don't call me Frederick Peters." 

"Deal!" I agreed. And with one more decidedly firm grip, we brought our handshake to a close. 

"How old are you, Ben?" he asked, readying pad and pencil once more. 

"Almost seven. My grandma's makin' me chocolate cake for my birthday. You wanna come?" 

"Chocolate, eh? That's my favorite." 

"Me, too. So will you come to my birthday?" 

"What do you say we talk about these criminals you captured first and then we'll talk about your birthday, okay?" 

"Okay, Constable Pete." 

"Very good. Now, it appears these men entered the house through that window." He pointed his pencil in the direction of the broken window. "Is that correct?" 

"Uh huh. They broke it." 

"And where were you, Ben, when this happened?" 

"Um..." I thought for a minute, then said, "In my room." 

"Asleep? Did the noise wake you?" 

"No, I wasn't asleep." 

"I see. So, tell me everything that happened after the two men came into the house." 

"Um, well, first I thought it was Grandma and Grandpa, but then I wasn't sure, so I peeked out my door and saw the criminals coming in the window." 

"Did you know your grandparents weren't home?" 

"Uh huh. I heard 'em talking before." 

"You were awake when we came into your room, honey?" my grandmother asked. 

"Um, yeah." 

"Why didn't you say so? We would've taken you with us." 

"I didn't wanna go to the library, Grandma." 

"Oh, Benton," she lamented with an air of frustration. 

I was doing my best not to mention any details of that evening that might get me into trouble with my grandparents, but if Grandma's 'Oh, Benton' was any indication, she was a bit unhappy with me. I looked at Constable Pete and shrugged shyly, and he responded with a knowing smirk, as if to say, 'Grown-ups, eh? What can you do about them?' 

"Then what happened, Ben?" he continued his interview. "Did the men see you?" 

"Uh-uh, not yet. I stayed real quiet so they wouldn't see me watching 'em." 

"You didn't stay in your room, though, obviously." 

I shook my head. "They were taking our guns and that's stealing so I had to stop them." 

"One little boy against two big men. That's quite a challenge. What made you think you should try to catch them all by yourself instead of going for help?" 

"'Cause if I didn't, they mighta got away." 

"Hmm, yes, they may have. So, you took your fishing pole and snuck up on them and caught them?" 

"Uh huh. I don't have a gun, yet, like a real Mountie, so I couldn't shoot 'em or anything." 

"Looks to me like you did just fine without a gun." 

"Really?" I couldn't hold back a proud grin. 

"I wouldn't be surprised if the Chief issues you a commendation for service above and beyond the call of duty." 

"Wow!" I exclaimed. "The Chief?" 

"Himself." 

"Wow! What's a commodation?" 

The Constable laughed and tousled my hair. "It's like a prize, an award for doing something especially good. You're quite an enterprising young man and very brave to do what you did. If your plan didn't work, those men might have hurt you." 

"Yes," my grandmother agreed, encircling me with her arms and pulling me against her lap. "Now all you have to worry about is what your grandma might do to you for doing something so recklessly dangerous." 

"Aw, gosh, Grandma..." 

"Never mind the 'aw, gosh.'" 

"But Mounties don't care 'bout dangerous stuff. Right, Constable Pete?" 

Grandma didn't give him a chance to respond. "Despite what you may like to think, honey, you're not a Mountie yet, and you have no business going after dangerous criminals." 

"But I told you I was tracking 'em, and you didn't say I couldn't." 

"I assumed you were playing make-believe, honey." 

"Heck, no, Grandma. Being a Mountie is serious bus'ness. Dad always says so." 

"Yes, so it is, so it is. And so is what the Constable just said. You could have been badly hurt." 

"But I wasn't, so aren't you happy about that?" I asked, looking back at her with my best manipulative pout. 

Grandma eyed me sternly but was unable to maintain that posture when her overwhelming relief to have found me unharmed got the better of her. She cinched her arms around me, said, "Yes, honey, I'm very happy about that," and then, much to my embarrassment, leaned forward to smack my cheek with a kiss. 

"Geez, Grandma, you don't kiss a guy when he's talkin' to a Mountie!" 

"Says who?" 

"Says everybody!" I replied, brushing my hand over my face, as if to undo the kiss. "Gosh." I hung my head, sure that the Constable would now see me as nothing but a little kid. 

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up to see Constable Pete smiling at me. He winked and informed me, "It's all right, Ben. I have a grandma, too, you know." 

"I bet she doesn't kiss ya when you're catchin' a criminal." 

"Well, no," he admitted with a chuckle. Then he leaned closer and added, "But, you know, sometimes I wish she was there to kiss me, eh." 

I grinned. "Maybe you could borrow my grandma. I could ask her if she could kiss ya." 

"All right, wise guy," Grandma said as she tugged on my ear to get my attention. "Never mind trying to give me away. You're stuck with me, kiddo!" she declared with a pinch to my nose. 

As we all laughed, Constable Pete stood up and once again offered me his hand. "Well, Ben, thanks for the offer. But you seem to be pretty lucky in the grandmother department, so you hang on to her, eh?" 

"Yes, Sir, Constable Pete. I will," I promised as I shook his hand firmly. 

"Good man. Now I suppose you should get to bed. You'll be needing your rest in case we have to call on you again as a witness." 

"Will he be needed in court?" my grandmother asked. 

"Possibly, Ma'am. As he apparently witnessed the actual commission of the crime, it's very likely that he'll be requested to testify, along with yourself and your husband, as the owners of the property in question. You are determined to press charges, I understand?" 

"Yes, of course." 

"Very well, then, I'll be in touch." Constable Pete shook my grandmother's hand and then my grandfather's after he approached to offer his farewell. 

"Are ya comin' to my birthday, Constable Pete?" I asked. 

"Er, well..." 

"You'd be most welcome, Constable," my grandmother told him. "Monday evening. Nothing fancy. Dinner about six, if you'd like to join us." 

"Ah, a home-cooked meal is very tempting, Ma'am!" 

"And chocolate cake. Don't forget the chocolate cake," I reminded everybody. 

"Yes, and chocolate cake," Grandma confirmed. 

"Thank you, Mrs. Fraser. I would be very happy to celebrate this young man's birthday with you, provided my duties don't call me elsewhere." 

"Wonderful. We'll expect you, then." 

"Oh boy!" I exclaimed. "I hope there's not any criminals on my birthday so you don't hafta catch 'em instead of coming to my birthday." I was all-too-familiar with that scenario, being the son of a Mountie. It was a rare birthday, indeed, when Dad was able to come home. 

"I hope so, too, Ben," Constable Pete replied. 

"Come, Benton," Grandpa said as he dropped a hand to my shoulder. "We'd best let the Constable get back to his duties. I'll tuck you into bed while Grandma sees him out." 

* * *

Grandpa closed my bedroom door behind him as he followed me into my room. "Hold on a minute, son. I need a favor before you get into bed." 

"What favor, Grandpa?" 

"I need the key to the gun cabinet so I can lock it back up." 

Oh dear! Why was he asking me for the key? "The key?" 

"Yes. I assume you still have it as I didn't see it anywhere. You unlocked the cabinet, didn't you?" 

I was stuck for an answer. I mean, I knew the answer to his question, but what I didn't know was how he knew the answer to his question. Did he know the answer, or was he simply guessing, which would mean it was still possible for me to deny any knowledge of the key's whereabouts? 

"Ben?" he interrupted my racing mind. 

"What?" 

"May I have the key, please?" 

He wasn't guessing. He knew darn well that I had used the key to unlock the cabinet. So, without a word, I reached into the pocket of my pajama bottoms and pulled out the key then presented it to my grandfather. 

"Thank you," he said, then was quiet until I looked him in the eyes. "Anything you want to tell me, buddy?" 

I hesitated long enough to take a deep breath, then confessed. "I was just lookin' at Dad's gun for a little while, Grandpa." 

"While Grandma and I were at the library?" 

"Uh huh." 

"I see. Did you have permission?" 

My eyes stayed locked on Grandpa's as I shook my head slowly. 

"Grandma and I don't expect you to be breaking the rules the minute our backs are turned." 

"Yes, Sir," I whispered. 

"If I were you, I'd ask permission next time or you'll be answering to me. Understand?" 

"Yes, Sir," I gulped. 

"All right. Into bed with you now." 

I nodded and scrambled into bed, and Grandpa pulled the covers over me. "How'd you know, Grandpa?" I asked. 

"Simple. One of those thieves you caught accused me of carelessly leaving my guns unsecured. He said I ought to know better than to leave them hanging around where a child could get his hands on them. I guess he was right." 

"Oh. I'm sorry, Grandpa. I just wanted to, um...to..." 

"To feel like your dad was close?" he very astutely suggested. 

"Uh huh. Gosh, Grandpa, you sure are smart." 

"Not smart enough to figure out how to get your dad to come home more often, though, eh?" 

"Yeah, but I don't think anybody's that smart." 

"Your dad'd be mighty proud of how you captured those two ne'er-do-wells tonight, all by yourself." 

"You really think he'd be proud of me?" 

"As proud as I am." He smiled and gently rubbed his thumb along my eyebrow. "I'm not your father, of course. I know that, buddy." 

"That's okay. You're my grandpa. Do ya think that's good enough?" 

"Yes, it's, um, very good enough," he said softly. "You'd better go to sleep now, eh?" 

"Okay." I turned onto my side and closed my eyes, but I opened them again when Grandpa said 'goodnight' with a pat to my head. "Grandpa?" 

"Yes?" 

"Do you hafta tell Grandma, you know, what I did? About the guns? 'Cause she'd be real mad, I think." 

At that moment, my grandmother came into the room. "What's going on in here?" she asked as she approached my bed. "Why aren't you sleeping, young man?" 

"I am, Grandma." 

"No, you are not," she corrected me. 

"He means he was just saying goodnight," Grandpa explained. 

"Ah, I see." She leaned down and kissed me goodnight. "Sweet dreams, honey." 

"Goodnight, Grandma." 

Grandpa then took his turn. He leaned in very close and whispered into my ear, "Yes, buddy, I reckon I do have to tell Grandma. Unless you'd rather do it yourself." 

"No, you can do it," I whispered back. It wasn't so much that I was afraid to tell my grandmother, mind you. It just seemed logical to let Grandpa do it, as I was confident that he would know just how to tell her. 

He then winked and said, "Goodnight." 

I closed my eyes and began to drift into peaceful sleep. 

* * *

Grandma never specifically mentioned the gun incident. I had kind of expected at least a quick scolding the next morning, but when that didn't happen, I guessed my grandpa must've assured her he'd seen to it himself. Feeling a bit guilty, I decided to cop to a lesser charge. I confessed to being responsible for the cookie crumbs and milk that Grandma had cleaned up from the living room floor before finally heading to bed that night. However, I was also quick to point out that the glass of milk had been instrumental in the capture of the intruders. Grandma considered that for a moment, but she was not prepared to let me off scot-free. In no uncertain terms, she reminded me of the importance of obeying rules whether anyone else was around or not. Clearly, I had proved undeserving of a widening of my boundaries. 

Oh well. All things considered, I figure things turned out pretty well. Constable Pete did show up for my birthday, and he brought with him a Special Citation for "Cadet" Benton Fraser in recognition of "Outstanding Performance of Civic Duty," framed and personally signed by the Chief Superintendent of the RCMP Northwest Division. It hung in a place of honour in our living room until the house was sold after my grandmother died. I was startled to come across it, years later, as I was rummaging through an old trunk of my father's. I'd had no idea that Dad even knew about the incident. At Grandma's urging, I had written to him and described how I'd *gotten my man,* but since he never offered any acknowledgment, I doubted my letter had reached him. 

If the criminals hadn't broken into our house and tried to steal our guns, then I wouldn't have been able to catch them and make Grandma and Grandpa and Constable Pete (and even Dad) proud of me, and I probably would've gotten into much more trouble for breaking the rules when I was left home alone. 

* * *

**THE END**

maryspen@aol.com 


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